This Morjin of old had a story to tell, and he had come here to tell it. He had come to open his heart, and perhaps something more, too. In the most exquisitely sad music that I had ever heard, these words of an immortal who had once belonged to the Elijik order sounded out deep inside the earth:
Let none hear my voice except my brothers in spirit, for only they will understand: I have slain a man. I, of those who are not permitted to slay, have done this thing which cannot be undone. In the dark of the moon, on a black night in winter with the wolves howling in the hills, I bade a man to look out the window upon the stars, and I put a knife into his back, into his heart
-
how else to slay this man who was more than a man? To slay? Why do I bite my tongue to keep from saying the true word for what I have done? And that is murder. Let me shout that, here, in the hollow of the earth to these pretty stents, as I
soon must shout it to the stars:
That is murder!
And I am therefore a murderer
-
at last.
Iojin. You were my brother, in spirit, and my brother in a great quest. You always knew my heart. How could I hide from you that which had begun to live inside me, with a ferocity like unto starfire feeding upon an infinite scarce? I burned, and so you burned, in touching my heart. You knew what golden source of light blazed in all my thoughts so that I could not sleep. You knew that I must someday try to claim
IT
-
I think you knew this before I knew it myself. I
burned, and so you burned, with compassion for me. I wept to know that you did not hate me for this dragon fire that consumed me, but only loved me. But you feared me, too, even as I feared myself.
How could you, Iojin of the Waters, not have wanted to go to the others in fear of me, in fear for me, and in fear for what we had come here to do? In fear for the world? Did you count this as betrayal? No, I do not think you would have, for you loved me as a brother, and would never have suffered anyone or anything to have grieved me. And yet, Garain, I think, would have betrayed me to the Bright Ones who sent us here. And Kalkin even worse: you, so gentle of heart, could never look into his heart, as fiery as a star, as black as death. He, the mighty Kalkin, might have murdered me. He would have
-
I feel this in my heart. When I claimed
IT
, he proved his baseness by murdering men, lesser men, before I slew him and cast his body into the sea.
Upon these words, I couldn't help looking over at Kane, who stood grinding his jaws together
as
he wept silently, perhaps
to
the sound of some song that I could not hear. And then Morjin's beautiful voice captured me again:
And so, by evil fate, I had to murder my brother. When I stabbed you, you screamed and screamed
-
I didn't know it would hurt so badly or take you so long to die. I watched the light go out of your eyes. Your beautiful eyes, like bright pools, beloved by all, and not just me. But the last light was for me. I set it still, like the setting of the moon, and cannot forget. Just as I cannot forget the burn of blood that stained my hands, for it was so warm and bright. I cannot wash it away, nor do I wish to. For your blood became my blood, my very life. It fed me, and feeds me still. Out of your death, the Dragon was born, and that is a very great thing.
If your eyes could look into mine now, would I see forgiveness there? Would you understand? I think you would. You, who loved me and would have died for me, and did die, without my asking you. You always wanted me to shine like the Bright Ones themselves; now I do. But I think I would see tears in your eyes, too. You would weep for yourself as I weep. You would weep for me, your friend, your brother, who screamed himself at the agony of the knife and died even as you died.
I think always of both these men: their beauty, their goodness, their grace. Their
...
innocence. I cannot bear that they should be cast into a black pit, never again to smell the honeysuckle in high summer or to gaze upon the brilliance of the winter stars. Never again to sing. I cannot bear that the One made the world so. Now that I am who I am, I will not bear it. I will breathe all my fire into this hateful creation, and out of its immolation, as the silver swan is reborn out of the ashes of its death pyre, I will make things anew.
This, though it will be no consolation to you now, I promise: that I will use the stone of light to bring only good things into the world - as good and beautiful as you. I will bring peace to Ea. And peace to the stars and every part of Eluru. When my work is done, I will turn all my thoughts and memories upon you. All my will. For nine score days and nights, I have asked myself if I have done the right thing. I have kept the knife always close to me. How shall I use it? Only you can tell me. And so I have come here to sing, that you might live again. If my heart is true, there will be an opening. I will enter into a cavern, not icy and dark, but gleaming with great crystals and full of tight And I will sing. If my words are perfect, if the music is as beautifully made as were you, I will breathe my breath into you. And you will live again. I will clasp your hand in mine: I will touch my hand to your wound and make it whole. I will look once more into your eyes, full of wonder, full of forgiveness, full of light. And I will live again, too, and all will be well.
Music poured forth from Morjin's throat then, and its lovely notes seemed to rise and seek form in the music of the Galadin. I heard in Morjin's voice a terrible striving for pure tones and all that was beautiful and good. But something deep in the sounding of his soul hissed with self-deception and untruth. I grit my teeth against the poisonous lie built into the very heart of his song.
A faint sound from somewhere in the caverns above us caused me to break my concentration oft this eulogy - or perhaps it was a prayer. I stood breathing hard against the sharp pain stabbing through my chest. I turned my head, and Morjin's anguished words died to a whisper. Kane still stood beside me, weeping freely now, as did Daj and Estrella behind him. Master Juwain stared up at the cavern's crystalline ceiling as if listening to some impossibly brilliant song. Atara leaned back against the opalescent pillar to my right. The smile that broke upon her face warmed my heart; I sensed that one of the immortal minstrels had given her a love song as beautiful as her dreams. Liljana, however, seemed also to have been startled out of her rapture. She cocked her ear toward the opening to the sixth cavern above us, and said to me, 'Did you hear anything?'
Her voice broke the spell woven by the minstrels' songs. Kane, through blurry eyes, peered at the stairs leading up to the sixth cavern, and his hand fell upon the hilt of his sword.
The sound of boots slapping against stone now clearly echoed out into our cavern. As we waited, this noise grew louder. Then, from out of the corridor at the top of the stairs, one of the Stewards of the Caves appeared. He grunted as he made his way down the stairs, followed by another guard, as dark and thin as he was fair and fat. Between grunts and the banging of his spear butt against the stone steps, he called out to us, 'Good pilgrims! Good pilgrims!'
When they had come closer, winding their way between the sharp crystals projecting up from the floor, an annoyed Liljana called back to him, 'You disturb us, good steward! Did we not agree that we were to be left here, alone, for as long as we wished?'
'But Madam Maida!' he said, fairly shouting out the name Liljana had given the stewards, 'that is just why we have come: we
have
been left alone. I fear treachery!'
The steward, whose name was Babul, came panting up to us. He stood next to the second steward, Pirro, and explained what had happened:
'After you went into the caverns,' he said, 'Lord Sylar posted Pirro and me by the doors while he held conference with Tarran, Elkar and Hakun. I tried to hear what he said to them, but I couldn't. I didn't like the sound of his voice. I never liked
him -
King Yulmar made him Lord of the Caves only because he married the King's niece. There was always something
wrong
about him. He spoke of the Red Dragon too often, if you know what I mean. He never trusted me, either, nor Pirro here. I didn't want to do as he bade us, but he
is
my lord, and I had no choice.'
Liljana quietly listened to his story, inviting him to say more in the openness of her manner. But Kane finally lost patience, and grabbed hold of Babul's arm: 'So - out with, man: what did Lord Sylar bid you to do?'
Babul swallowed, and I saw the apple of his throat pushing up and down beneath the folds of fat there. He could not look at Kane as he said, 'After the sun had set and it was dark, Lord Sylar sent Taran riding off - where, I don't know. He came up to me and Pirro, and told us that you were a band of thieves - as clever as rats, he said. He had sworn an oath, he said, to protect the caverns' treasures, and wasn't about to let you defile them. He sent Pirro and me to find you. We were to tell you that Lord Sylar had discovered one of Madam Maida's coins to be counterfeit: of gold-plated lead. You were to pay us another, or to leave the caverns for good. We were to escort you back to the first cavern, and there you would be arrested. Lord Sylar had Elkar and Harun make ready the chains.'
'So,' Kane growled, squeezing Babul's arm more tightly. 'You were to capture us with this ploy of Sylar! So much for speaking the truth!'
'He told us you were
thieves
!' Babul said, his face reddening.
'What could we do?'
'What
did
you do, then? What happened, that you decided to betray your lord to us?'
Babul looked over at Pirro, who seemed to be trying to restrain his hand from grasping the hilt of his sword. And Babul told Kane: 'As soon as we had gone a dozen yards into the second cavern, Lord Sylar had Elkar and Harun close the doors behind us. He locked us in! I heard them laughing outside. I don't know why they imprisoned us, along with you.'
'No, you don't
know
,' Kane muttered as his knuckles grew white against Babuls arm. 'But you suspect, don't you? You said there was something
wrong
about this Sylar, eh?'
Babul nodded his head. He licked at his lips and told us, 'This is a bad time in Senta - a bad time everywhere, I think. It's said that the Dragon's Red Priests have many friends in Sent a, secret friends they call themselves.
Spies,
I call them. Traitors and snakes. It's said that they are everywhere. I am afraid that Lord Sylar is one of these.'
Kane suddenly released Babul, who stood rubbing his arm. Kane looked straight at Liljana, who returned his stare. I could see the question in Kane's eyes: was Babul's story to be believed or was it only a ploy within a ploy?
Liljana nodded almost imperceptibly to signal her belief that Babul was telling the truth. And then Kane snarled out, 'Back, then! Back up to the doors!'
Without waiting a moment longer, he bounded like a great cat for the stairs leading up to the sixth cavern. The rest of us followed him. Master Juwain could not move as quickly, and he managed to cut his leg on one of the crystals lining our path. Babul, practically dragging his spear behind him, fell far back as he puffed and panted for air. Although he was as fat as Maram, he seemed to possess none of Maram's stamina and strength. I held back near him, and Pirro, to make sure they didn't decide to put their spears into our backs.
But it seemed that they intended no treachery toward us. It seemed as well that we must hurry to escape from the caverns, or be trapped here to await whatever priest or assassin Sylar might have summoned.
We raced up and back through the caverns, one by one. When we came into the second cavern, I saw that we had been shut in by the massive iron doors. Kane waited for us in front of them; his eyes picked apart the doors' joints and the surrounding rock as if looking for any weakness. With his sword in hand, he suddenly leaped toward the doors, slamming his shoulder against the crack where they came together. There came a great bang and a groaning of iron, and I was afraid that Kane had broken his bones. But his savage effort failed to budge the doors even an inch.
'Damn them!' Kane muttered. He slapped his open hand against hard iron with such force that bits of rust flew out into the air. 'Damn them!'
Muffled voices sounded from beyond the door, and I sensed that Sylar and the two other stewards stood guard there. Without warning, Kane grabbed Babul's spear and used the ironshod butt to hammer at the doors as he cried out, 'Open up! Open, I say!'
From the first cavern past the doors came the sound of laughter.
'Sylar - open the damn doors!'
The laughter grew louder, and I could plainly hear Sylar's voice as he called out to us: 'Soon enough we'll open the doors, cursed pilgrims. But you'll not be happy when we do.'
Liljana came up to the door and shouted out: 'We've more gold - diamonds, too! Open the door, and we'll give you all you wish!'
'Can you give me what I
really
wish? No, not with gold, or even diamonds.'
There resounded a smug laughter that made me want to tear off Sylar's head. Then he added, 'In the end, you
will
give me what I wish, though. And I'll have your treasure out of you, too.'
It came to me in a flash that what he wished was to be made a Red Priest of the Kallimun. These hated executors of Morjin recruited from devoted members of the Order of the Dragon, to which Sylar and the other stewards must belong. Thus had Morjin's priests suborned even princes. I remembered the red dragon tattooed on Salmelu Aradar's forehead, to the shame of Ishka and all the Valari kingdoms.
Kane must have shared my thinking, for he raised back his head and howled out: 'Trapped! Cursed acolytes with their cursed secret marks! Damn them!'